Emily Whispers Bird Lore to My Daughters

By Dayna Patterson

My girls and I play Songs and Poems, take turns choosing a song to sing or a poem to recite. They graduate—gradually— from children’s poetry with its drumbeat clarity, full rhyme and even keel, and move toward Dickinson, press her poems against their bones, walk through her slanted rooms. I learn my girls don’t know …

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By Kellie Purcill

Hope is not a thing with wings Instead, a valkyrie who sings. Badly. But sings regardless and loud Hums through gritted teeth, or growls. (She’s an alto). No feathers, no frail bones, this hope Has shoulders to move mountains, hush babies hang garlands of laughter on. And does. Hope smacks the dust and mud off …

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